


Nigiri

by ClumsyEdge



Series: Tea and Onigiri [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Bloodlust, Gen, Minor Violence, Pre-Slash, Rivalry, Swordfighting, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Zoro and Sanji have a swordfight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:52:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8175785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClumsyEdge/pseuds/ClumsyEdge
Summary: Zoro loved a good challenge, be that present or future.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short companion fic to my other work 'Tea and Onigiri', told from Zoro's POV and briefly exploring his thoughts on the matter.
> 
> Can be read as a standalone if truly needed.
> 
> Enjoy!

Very little excited Zoro more than a good challenge.

To be tested to the very limits of his known skill, to push that little bit extra. To see how far he could stretch before something snapped. It thrilled him, made his blood sing. One wrong move would mean the end, and treading the line between life and death was intoxicating.

Typically, it took him less than a minute to figure out his opponent’s level. Skilled opponents triggered something instinctual within him, a primal urge to _fight, win, kill_. Perhaps it was a survival instinct. Perhaps it was simply blood-lust. Either way, weak opponents never managed to turn this instinct on.

He had met only a handful of opponents so far which had truly excited him, Mihawk being the most prominent example. Kuma had once occupied a large part of his thoughts, following those tragic events at Thriller Bark and then Sabaody, but there was something intrinsically different between facing someone who was simply strong, and meeting blades with a fellow swordsman. A strong opponent excited him, yes. But a strong swordsman exhilarated him.

So when the perverted cook held Brook’s sword to his neck in clear challenge, his breath caught and adrenaline surged through him like a tidal wave. The cook wasn't weak by any means, despite what Zoro often said aloud. This surge of energy was a habitual response to the other man’s presence, past experience telling him to stay alert. It was Zoro’s instinct warning him, just like it did with other strong opponents, that the cook was dangerous.

However, at the same time, Zoro was uncertain. Sanji may be a skilled combatant, but he was no swordsman. The man didn't fight with his hands, after all. So despite every fibre of his body buzzing with the urge to fight, he hesitated. There was only one way this fight could go. 

Sanji slid into a somewhat stiff but reasonable stance and Zoro was somewhat relieved to see it. At least he knew the basics. The cook would need at least that much if he wanted to keep up here. Zoro braced himself, hoping to get this over and done with as quickly and as painlessly as possible. There was no need to completely overwhelm the poor guy, after all. This fight was completely unbalanced.

Or so he thought.

Things shifted when Sanji visibly gathered himself and his body became loose-limbed. The switch was rapid, and warnings resounded in Zoro’s mind immediately in response. He barely had time to react as Sanji was suddenly _right there_. The weight of his strike was surprising, but somewhat off-centre, making it easy to block. The cook then dodged Zoro’s counter with unexpected dexterity, and then he was back again with another quick attack.

All the while, Zoro’s heart thudded ever louder in his chest. The doubt from earlier was fading quickly, to be replaced with a familiar exhilaration. This time, however, it was even more potent.

Zoro could see it in the way Sanji held his sword, the way in which he positioned his body. Sanji had been trained.

The realisation pierced Zoro like an arrow.

He launched his counter like a man possessed, striking once without mercy. Twice.

_When did he stop?_

Three times. Four, five, six.

_Why?_

Sanji had multiple openings, but one was overwhelmingly obvious. He was still protecting his hands.

Zoro had noticed the wounds on Sanji’s hands upon his return from Whole Cake Island. He’d heard the stories of the cook’s vile family, of their vicious lust for pain and suffering. They’d obviously done something terrible to the cook’s hands specifically. For all intents and purposes, Sanji should never want to use his hands again. And yet, Sanji had been the one to suggest this fight. Protecting his hands was second nature, probably reinforced now by whatever he’d just been through. Zoro would not blame him for it. Admittedly, it was admirable of him to try to face it. But in a serious fight, an opening was a weakness and every weakness was there to be exploited. Sanji wanted Zoro to fight him seriously and Zoro would never half-ass a fight like this.

It didn’t last much longer after that.

Soul Solid clattered away and Zoro pinned Sanji to Sunny’s railing. The cook was panting hard around Shusui at his neck, his eyes a deep, sharp, piercing blue. He looked resigned, but not defeated and Zoro almost smiled. He stared at Sanji as if seeing him clearly for the first time.

_How good would you have become, had you not stopped training?_

Zoro pictured the finesse with which he'd seen Sanji slice and debone meat for their meals, imagined it with a sword and an enemy instead. A wave of heat rushed through him, and he watched with fascination as Sanji flushed, almost in response.

Something was simmering in the pit of his gut. A slow, molten wave of something powerful. Was it anticipation? Excitement? _Fear?_

He pulled away, Sanji's eyes following him.

Perhaps, it was all of the above.


End file.
